Confrontations: Once upon a time
by Spidey-phd
Summary: Buffy's forgotten summer post Becoming.
1. Ambushed at the pass

_**Lost and Found**_

_**Disclaimer**: All included or referenced BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon. Nest Freemark and Co. belong to Terry Brooks. The HP series is J.K. Rowling's. Some ideas (and maybe characters?) have been ripped-off from Highlander. LOTR came from Tolkien. Finally, the Hope Springs crew are mine, children of a hopefully benevolent muse. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have._

_A word of warning- I was actually only exposed to two or three episodes of Buffy before I discovered BtVS fanfiction. I quickly came to love the fanfic but my feeling about the rest of the eventually-watched series were kind of wishy-washy (great dialogue but parts of the series were very blah). So if Buffy comes off as being a little out of character it might just be my preferred representation of the-little-Slayer-that-could. _

_**Eternal Plea**: Feed back! - Point out errors, suggest changes, critique ideas, etc. In particular, I feel that dialogue is a weakness of mine. Please help me out in that area. I'd also love to hear guesses of where I'm going with this._

Dull green eyes gazed unseeingly out the Greyhound's window. The shadows of telephone poles crossed the girl's pale face in a slow, steady rhythm. The view was an endless repetition of sagebrush and tall, coarse grass with few buildings to break the monotony. Rocky, snow-capped peaks reached heavenward in the far distance. By the failing light of the setting sun, the desert's humble grays and browns and greens blending together in a featureless, drab background to her seemingly endless journey.

Even Buffy's fellow passengers were subdued and quiet. The heavy man in the seat across from her was snoring gently. The baby had quit crying after his mother had finally changed him. The whispery sound of moving paper marked the turning of magazine and book pages. The muffled sounds of guitars and drums faintly escaped from a teenager's headphones.

Her blank gaze turned to meet that of the gangly, wane-looking girl who had been staring at her in an unsuccessful attempt at subtlety ever since she had gotten on. The skinny adolescent flinched, as if expecting a blow, before hurriedly looking away and huddling closer to the older boy accompanying her.

Too tired to really care, the blond teenager returned her attention to the scene passing by outside her window.

Her eyes momentarily focused upon a subtle movement among the sparse growth. A small herd of deer-like animals were lightly racing alongside the old bus. The slight, tan and cream creatures appeared to be almost floating, barely touching the ground before moving skyward once more. But even their speed could not equal that of the speeding vehicle and all too quickly the animals disappeared from sight, a fleeting dream in the darkening twilight.

A crooked smile flickered upon her full lips.

The antelope had come and gone so quickly, leaving no trace of their passage. It was doubtful that anyone else had even noticed them.

. The blond girl released a silent sigh and raised her hand to see the ring more clearly in the light of the waning sun. The delicate jewelry was simple and unelaborate. A crowned heart held out by two hands- a symbol and a promise of the eternal love she had been offered by her Angel. An emblem of shattered dreams and lost innocence.

The last lingering rays of sunlight left her gently fingering the small object.

Up near the front of the bus the tired mother was trying to persuade her older son to eat. The tousle-headed kid was protesting being forced to eat peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches for yet another meal.

"Hold on!" the driver shouted as he stomped on the brake.

The stop was sudden and unexpected. The heavy man's head smacked into the seat ahead of him. A dropped drink splashed across the floor. The baby and his older brother both started to cry again.

The vehicle awkwardly lurched to a stop.

The Greyhound's interior was a tumult of confusion.

"What happened?" the heavy man asked in a daze. "Did we crash?"

"No." The man in the Raiders jacket pointed out the front window. "They did."

A large car laid upside-down across the road an uncomfortably short distance from the front of the bus.

"Whoa." the teenager said as he slipped the headphones from his head and rose to his feet. "That had to hurt."

"Please remain calm." the driver stated over the P.A. system. "This is just a temporary delay. Is everyone all right? Did anyone get hurt?"

"I think I sprained my wrist." said a woman from the back of the bus.

"Is my nose bleeding?" the heavy man moaned. He moved the handkerchief and inclined his head to give Buffy a better view of his hairy nostrils.

The mother was trying to calm down her kids. "Hush, now." she murmured as she rocked the baby in her arms. "Billy, I need you to be Mommy's big helper. See if you can find Jason's bottle in the diaper bag."

But all of the noise and commotion was just background static to the blond girl. It slid past her senses like the rumble of a hundred different conversations at a party and her attention snagged upon the only thing in the situation that truly mattered to a Slayer- the presence of demons.

Vampires surrounded the stopped bus on all sides, just staying back far enough to prevent discovery by the weak senses of their intended prey. Their hideous, slitted eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. The demons' ragged, yellow teeth snarled in anticipation as the encircling monsters shifted impatiently.

A child appeared in the glare of the bus' headlights, limping and waving frantically. Her clothing was dirty and torn. Dry blood clotted her hair and obscured half her face. "Help!" she called. Tears ran down her face. "Please, help me!" She stumbled and fell.

"Open the door!" the Raiders' fan ordered as he rushed forward. Several others were rising to follow.

"Where is the first-aid kit?" a woman asked.

"Radio for an ambulance." someone else recommended.

"I'm a registered EMT." another offered.

The driver opened the door without pausing to consider.

"No." snapped Buffy.

A momentary pause followed as everyone turned to the source of the unexpected protest.

"Shut the door." she ordered.

Later, the surviving passengers would remember that something had seemed to have changed in the slight teen. Is was if she had grown taller somehow. Or maybe there was something about the surrounding gloom which made her green eyes appear to almost smolder with dangerous energy. Possibly it was merely the confidence in her stance or the authority in her voice which compelled their wills to give way to her own, like twigs caught up by a thundering flash flood.

There was a long moment of hesitation when the passengers almost obeyed her command but a single voice of protest was all that was required to break the spell. "Are you kidding?" The heavy man said. "We just can't leave that girl out there!"

Angry agreements rumbled from several throats.

Buffy shouted to be heard over the crowd. "It's a trap. A set-up." But she already knew she had lost them. For a brief fraction of time they had Believed- the masks and curtains stripped away to allow them to feel the Truth resonate with chilling peals throughout their cowering forms- but the revelation was too great, too over-whelming. The illusion of safety through burying one's head in the sand chosen over seeing the lion's gleaming eyes.

"You-" the woman pointed at Buffy for emphasis, "Watch way too much TV."

The bloody girl outside stumbled against the front of the bus. Her trembling hand left a bloody streak upon the windshield. "Please," she cried, "My Mommy and Daddy are still in the car."

Buffy heard a gasp from the sickly girl who had caught her attention earlier. The younger girl's eyes were full of fear as she shrank back from the window, her gaze casting about wildly in the darkness beyond. The kid might not be able to see the vampires like a Slayer could but she was obviously able to somehow sense the demonic presence.

The girl flinched as the boy with her put an arm around her shoulders and bent his head down next to hers to whisper a quick question. His head snapped up at her reply. "Wait!" he shouted. "She's right. It's an ambush."

The jock in the Raiders jacket snorted. "If you're not going to help out, shut up and stay out of the way." He jumped down the stairs, leading the way for several other passengers.

Buffy swore under her breath and looked out the window. She swore again and slammed a fist against the luggage rack in frustration.

The boy pulled out a cell phone and hit speed-dial. His eyes moved up to meet hers while the phone rang.

Someone picked up on the other end after the first ring.

"This is Matt. The Playhouse was a diversion. We're just short of old Carson's bridge and in serious trouble. How fast can you guys get here?" the teenager demanded.

Buffy's eyes narrowed as her peculiar companion listened to the answer from the unknown party.

The now-identified 'Matt' paled when he heard the reply. "Okay. Floor it." He snapped the phone shut and focused his gaze on her once again. "What do you think of our chances of surviving until the cavalry arrives?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she answered dryly, accepting the situation and the lack of time for questions. She unlocked the emergency window and pushed it open far enough for her slim form to slide through. Removing a wooden stake from the depths of her over-sized leather jacket, the Slayer somersaulted out into the night.

"Does it matter?" Matt echoed with a grimace. He grabbed his backpack and yanked it open to reveal a strange collection of water guns, crosses and sharpened wooden sticks.

"Nest," he tried to make his voice as reassuring and confident as possible as he returned his attention to the trembling girl he was traveling with. "Everything is going to be all right. Your Aunt Liz and everyone else are going to be here any minute now. We just need to stall for time and make sure all of the passengers are okay. You stay here and I'll go-"

"No!" The girl desperately wrapped her arms around him and sobbed. "Don't leave me alone! They'll take me away again and… and…"

"Shhh." He soothed her, enveloping her in a comforting hug. "You're going to be okay. Nothing is going to happen to you. Okay? You're going to be just fine. I just need to make sure everyone else is okay until the rescue crew gets here. Do you think Rome would ever let anything happen to you?" He grinned when she hesitantly shook her head. "You are going to be just fine." He handed her a large cross and a water gun from his bag. "You know how to use these, right? Now you stay here and hang tight while I go try to get everyone back on the bus. There is nothing to be afraid of. Okay?"

Nest managed a jerky nod.

Clay squeezed her shoulder one last time before rising to his feet and striding towards the front of the bus. His concealed the trembling in his hands from the young girl as he slapped a cross to the strange Velcro strip on each forearm of his jacket and pulled out a large water-gun from his backpack.

The mother of the two children gaped at him as he strode forward pumping the gun to build up pressure. She pulled her older son protectively back against her chest as he went past, clearly doubting his mental stability.

He smiled crookedly. "I know what you're thinking- soundtrack. You just can't have a good action scene without a soundtrack. Don't worry. I'll have my agent get on it as soon as possible."

At the front of the bus, Clay turned back to look at Nest. She was huddled down in her chair, her big eyes full of fear and pleading for him to come back. He flashed her a cocky grin before turning towards the open door.

Taking a deep breath, he stepping off the bus and into the night.


	2. SuperBuffy

Alighting soundlessly in the shadowy concealment below the bus, Buffy hesitated for a moment to survey her surroundings. The situation did not look good for the passengers. The overturned vehicle blocking the road was one of those big, old luxury cars that seemed to be a not-far-distant cousin to a tank. Even if they were to ram the wreckage with the bus in an escape attempt, the narrow bridge on the other side was too close to make such an attempt feasible.

The two-lane highway was not wide enough for the big bus to turn around on and the thick bordering sagebrush prohibited any thoughts of going off-road.

The bus and its passengers weren't going to go anywhere until after all of the action was over and done with.

A small bitter smile crossed the Slayers face. Wasn't that always the way it was? The Chosen** One **defending the world from the vampires, the demons, and the other forces of darkness night after demanding night? Pouring all of her sweat and tears and blood and dreams into an effort to save as many people as possible until it was all too much or the bad guy was too powerful. Then she died and, without a blink, the cosmos called another girl to take her place. The Chosen One. The Vampire Slayer. The boogie man who terrorized Earth's population of demons and monsters. A temporary convenience. An unappreciated, unknown slave to a mystic duty handed down through countless generations of young girls who had all met violent, unnoticed ends. Fate's abused plaything and butt of all her jokes.

Quite as shadows she lived in, The Slayer slipped forward toward the demons waiting in the darkness.

Matt Field's heart seemed bound and determined to pound its way out of his chest. With each rapid beat, he could feel the impact within his breast as the muscular organ battled with his hyperventilating lungs for the limited space.

His thoughts cast about wildly for a solution to his current dilemma and came to rest upon the blonde girl who had slipped out the bus window. She was an enigma, an unknown factor in the night's high-stakes game of chance. The slight girl in the oversized leather jacket had caught his attention from the moment he had gotten onto the bus. She was an exceptionally pretty girl despite the lack of make-up, the unnatural pallor to her tanned skin and the dark rings under her reddened eyes. The cross around her neck had been a welcome assurance. The bandages on the palms of her hands had been a curiosity. As had Nest's trembling reaction to her disinterested gaze. Who was the blond girl? What was she doing here? Was she a friend or foe?

And then had come the encounter with the overturned car and the lethargic, unresponsive girl had suddenly become alert. The change had been awesome, like a pouring gasoline onto glowing coals. The girl had surged to her feet, seeming almost to crackle with energy, her eyes bright and piercing with purpose. Her movements had been sure, graceful, and powerful. Her unheeded commands had been spoken with surety and confidence, as from one who was intimately and thoroughly knowledgeable of what she spoke. Then she had slipped out into the night, a nocturnal predator going out in search of prey.

Whoever she was, whatever she was, she was not merely the hurt young woman she had seemed at first glance. She seemed to be on the side of the good guys and he grasped firmly onto that one small comfort.

He wasn't alone against the monsters of the night.

Matt tried to be inconspicuous in his scanning of the surrounding darkness as he approached the small group of people milling around the little girl. The blond stranger had seemed to instantly recognize the danger which encircled the stopped bus but it took him longer. The signs were there, faint and subtle to his weaker senses but nevertheless undeniable.

Nature held her breath and hid her face from the stalking monsters, leaving the desert scene eerily silent. No cricket's chirp or owl's hoot broke the silence. No distant coyote dared to raise his voice. There was nothing but the hushed rustle of sagebrush and stirring grass as the nocturnal predators slowly moved in to claim their prey. An occasional faint yellow gleam could be seen when the moonlight reflected off the demons' eyes at the right angle, marking the progress of their approach and providing chilling hints of how many of the vampires were present.

There were at least four of the monsters closing in on the front of the bus from the right side. Assuming there were similarly sized groups closing in on the other side and back of the bus, and none on the other side of the overturned car where they could unintentionally be revealed by the glow from the bus' lights, he figured there could easily be as many as fifteen of the blood suckers participating in the surprise attack. He hoped he was severely overestimating their numbers.

"How is she?" one of the passengers asked the young man who had claimed to be an E.M.T..

The E.M.T. had a curious expression on his face as he examined the little girl, feeling first one wrist then one side of her neck then the other side. "I… I can't find a pulse." he finally managed to say. He knelt down to press his ear against the child's chest.

"There's no one here." Raiders jacket announced as he looking into the overturned car, confused. "Could they have been thrown from the car? But none of the windows are broken."

"Becky," a kind-faced older woman asked, "How did you get out of the car?"

"I don't remember." The little girl looked up with tear filled eyes. "Where are my Mommy and Daddy?"

"I don't know, dear." she answered, full of pity for the poor child. "But everything is going to be all right."

The E.M.T. pulled back and looked at the little girl, completely bewildered.

"What is it?" the grandmotherly woman asked in concern. "Is something wrong?"

"I can't find a heart beat. No pulse, no heart beat, nothing. She's so hypothermic she should be unconscious but she's still coherent. And I can't find any external injuries. I don't know where she bleeding. Unless it's from her parents..?"

The little girl smiled, her angelic features warped by an evil smirk. "I don't think Mommy and Daddy needed it anymore."

The adults froze for a moment in disbelief..

The child's face changed before their eyes. Big blue, tear-filled eyes replaced by gleaming yellow-and-red orbs under a heavy brow ridge. Her pouting lips pulling back to reveal jagged, sharp teeth. The quivering, sobbing innocence discarded to expose a dark, malicious evil. With a laugh, the demon seized the E.M.T. by his shirt front and yanked him forward where her teeth could sink into his exposed throat.

The grandmother screamed.

A cool, clear liquid soared in a pressurized stream from one side of the stunned group of passengers and into the demon's face.

With a howl of pain, the demon shoved herself away from the E.M.T. and the burning water, her face charred and smoking from contact with the holy water. She reeled away, her clawed hands clasped to her burnt face. Her undamaged eye peered out hatefully from between her fingers at her attacker. "You!" she hissed in recognition.

"Me." Matt affirmed as he strode closer, pumping the water gun to maintain pressure.

The demon smiled. "We'll make you pay for that, mutt. By the time your friends get here, we'll be long gone and you with us. I'll make you scream until your throat bleeds and -"

The demon's taunting words were cut off by another blast of the holy water.

"I've already heard that one." Matt admonished dryly. He turned to regard the enclosing circle of vampires.

The other passengers started with fright, their whole attention having been fixed upon the confrontation between Matt and the little girl. The grandmother's second scream was joined by startled cries from several of the other passengers.

"Keep cool, folks." he assured them with a calmness in his voice that he was far from feeling. "These ugly little freaks aren't so tough." He aimed high and pulled the trigger, causing several of the vampires to hesitate to avoid the ensuing stream of water. "You," he pointed at the big guy in the Raider's jacket, "Start handing out the weapons in my pack. Use the crosses like shields. Spray them with holy water to hurt them. Go for the eyes and face if possible. The stakes are for their hearts but be careful, they're stronger and faster than we are."

"Crosses? Holy water?" Fat Man demanded dubiously. "Do you want us to believe that those people are vampires?" He snorted. "What is this? A joke? Some type of MTV show?"

Matt glared at him with frustrated rage. He abruptly ripped one of the sharpened crosses off his sleeve and strode over to the little girl. The demon hissed and feigned a retreat before lunging at the approaching teenager.

Expecting the move, the boy merely held up the sharp piece of wood and allowed her momentum to drive the point into her unbeating heart, the impact staggering him and driving him to his back.

The demon atop him snarled with hatred one last time before exploding in a cloud of ash.

Coughing harshly and waving one hand to clear the air in front of him, Matt climbed back to his feet. He looked at the mismatched group surrounding him through watery eyes. "Believe it. I don't have time to convince you that there really are things that go bump in the night."

The sound of someone slowly clapping their hands together came in mocking reply to the teenager's demonstration.

"A wonderful show, Matthew. Really." A handsome, well-dressed man mocked him as he stepped into view. "Courage. Nobility. Integrity. Dedication to the ideals of truth and virtue." The group of passengers shrank back as the stranger drew closer, parting like the Red Sea before Moses, until the dark-haired vampire loomed over the stocky teenager. "Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout?"

"Robert." Matt acknowledged, hoping that the vampire hadn't noticed the crack in his voice. "It's been a while. We were beginning to hope that you might have taken up tanning."

"No such luck, I'm afraid. No, I merely took a short sabbatical from our games to await a more opportune moment. And now that that moment has come…"

Demonic visages fully exposed, the vampires began to emerge from darkness as they advanced upon their terrified prey.

"Let the party begin." Robert ordered with a flourish.

One of the advancing vampires suddenly froze, a shocked and uncomprehending look plastered on his grotesque features. With an angry wail, he exploded into a cloud of dust.

Everyone's attention immediately focused upon the slender, leather-clad figure standing behind the settling ashes.

"Look, guys, I hate to be a downer but its late, I'm tired and it's kind of past curfew," Buffy quipped. "Why don't all of the undead present just go find a nice crypt somewhere for their little social gathering and all of the stupid passengers who didn't want to listen to me get back on the stupid bus, back in their seats and we can get back on the stupid road?"

Snarling with rage, the three nearest vampires moved to attack the blond girl who had slain their comrade.

Buffy sighed in exasperation. "You have no idea how hard-" She blocked a punch, locking up the offending limb and spinning with it to launch the vampire away from her. "- you are testing my already stretched-" A fashionably-booted heel impacted violently with the next onrushing demon's face. "- patience. If you're not careful, -" She moved forward to meet the final vampire. A powerful right hook snapped his head back quickly followed by a leg sweep which left him sprawled on the ground. The wooden stake penetrated his heart with a dull thud. "- you might make me angry." A second hellish wail marked the vampire's passage into dust.

She stood up and began to brush the ashes off of her jacket. "And I don't think you want to see me angry."

Robert smirked in savage appreciation, holding up a hand to prevent his vengeful followers from rushing forward. "I must respectfully disagree," he replied with a courtly bow, his intense gaze never leaving hers. "I have found, in my own experience, that a woman's beauty is often shown to best advantage when her passions are aroused."

A blond eyebrow was arched in response. "Is this a come on? 'Cause, I gotta say, the whole people-in-mortal-peril-of-being-eaten thing really isn't my thing." She stopped for a moment in reconsideration before correcting herself. "Well, I guess it kind of is. Just not in your kind of way. Less with the 'I've come to suck your blood' and more with the 'Hiyah! Take that, evil-doers. Super-Buffy is here to save the day.'"

"Buffy." He smoothly cut into her valley-girl ramble. "Is that your name?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, feeling defensive. "What were my parents smoking, huh? Is that what you were going to say? Not exactly new material. If I had a dime for every monster who has rehashed that one I definitely wouldn't be wearing last year's fashions."

"Last year's?" The vampire repeated quizzically, eyeing her up and down, and enjoying the view considerably in the process. Sudden understanding lit up his face. "You're from the coast."

"Uh, yeah?" she prompted.

"So this is Idaho. Land of potatoes. Home of the one gas-station town. Half the culture here is still stuck back in the 1800's and other half is just entering this century. The clothing styles here are at least several months behind California."

"Really?" Buffy asked happily. "That's so cool. 'Cause my clothing budget just went through a major down-sizing. And now, when I'm all bracing myself for a trip to Wally's World of slave-labor produced fashions I find out I'm still good until…" She shook her head. "Wait, why am I taking your word on this? You're dead. And evil."

Somewhere in their conversation, Robert had moved forward until he was looking down into her eyes. Or had she moved closer to him? He had very nice eyes, she idly noted, a warm color of blue framed by long, dark eyelashes. His chin was a little on the delicate side for her taste, slightly too effeminate compared to the strong-jawed guys she usually went for. But his lips were just right, with a slight bad-boy pout that made her wonder what they would be like to kiss.

She blushed guiltily at the thought and ducked her head. 'Down, girl!' A warm feeling was starting to grow within her belly. 'Oh, no!' she mentally moaned as the realization hit her. 'I must look a mess- no make-up, I haven't slept in days and I probably smell like a locker room.'

Robert gently pulled up on her chin until her mortified gaze met his. "Please forgive my forwardness, but you are perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever had the fortune to meet."

She colored deeply, a shy smile lighting her face. He had a British accent, just like Giles. Only his accent seemed to have toned down a bit and Giles' voice had never been so thrillingly sexy. She could just image her and Robert alone in his castle, sitting together in front of a crackling fire as he whispered seductive promises in her ear.

As if noticing for the first time, he gently turned her injured palms in his strong grip. "What happened to your hands?"

"I-… It was a…" Buffy stammered, looking stricken. 'Angel. If he finds out about Angel then he'll never look at me again. He'll think I'm some kind of dirty slut and easy and a whore and…'

Her mental wail died off as he carefully unwrapped her hands to reveal the nearly healed wounds from Angelus' sword. He regarded the red lines sorrowful, "They look painful."

She tried to shrug carelessly. "Not really. Just a bit itchy now."

The kind look he gave her was so full of sympathy that she nearly broke down into tears. He raised one hand to his mouth, his passionate gaze locked on her. "Please, allow me to kiss it better."

"You don't have to-" Her protest was cut off by a incredible feeling of fiery pleasure spilling from his lips and nearly causing her knees to buckle from the shock. "Oh…" she moaned, leaning into his hard chest to keep from falling.

Wave after wave of the most excruciating pleasure she had ever felt swept through her slender frame with each movement of his soft lips. Her lungs were gasping for air and she felt as if the world were spinning around her. Her eyelids half-opened as he pulled her trembling form more tightly against him.

As if through a haze, she could see the young man from earlier, the one who had tried to protect the rest of the passengers from the vampires. What was his name again? He had gathered the rest of the passengers into a tight circle and was trying to guide them back in the direction of the bus. The encircling vampires kept rushing them only to swerve aside at the last moment, deterred by the outstretched crosses and streams of holy water. But it was just a matter of time before the protective circle fell apart under the strain. She could already see some of the panicked passengers were wildly looking around and gauging their chances of successfully making a break for the bus. The young man was waving at her and it looked like he was shouting, but she couldn't hear anything he was saying. Even when she tried to listen to him, there was just a dull roar of sound which caused her head to hurt.

Robert's mouth had moved to her wrist. His grip on her arm was no longer gentle. It hurt, though she didn't know why she cared. She could almost feel her bones groaning under the pressure and she was sure that a normal person's bones would have broken long ago.

Her gaze returned to the young man. Matt. That was his name. Robert had called him Matthew. It seemed like there was some kind of history between the two of them.

A vampire grew impatient and tried to force his way through the wall of crosses and holy water. Fat Man panicked, dropping his cross and shielding himself behind the woman who had been standing next to him. The woman fought free of his panicked grasping and used her water gun to cut off the vampire's assault with a well-placed shot into the eyes. A final jab with her elbow freed the woman from Fat Man's impeding grip and she moved to fill in the gap left by his absence. Fat Man wasn't the only one who had backed into the safety of the inside of the circle and those defenders remaining on the outside were struggling to meet their increasing responsibilities.

Buffy's vision was becoming sharper and with it, it seemed as if a veil was dropping from her mind as well.

Robert's fangs were buried in her wrist, worrying the already torn tissue in an attempt to increase the flow of her blood. The feelings of pleasure had stopped. In fact, they didn't seem to have ever existed at all. There was just pain and blood and the nauseating realization of being violated.

For the tiniest fraction of a moment, she hesitated. Would it be so wrong to do nothing? To allow blissful death to take away all of the pain and the horror? Who knows, maybe somehow, by some miracle, could Angel's soul have gone to heaven? Maybe they could be together again. She would be able to beg for his forgiveness and be held close in his strong arms. To be able to see his gentle gaze, to hear his soft laugh, to allow his love and kindness to wash away all of the harsh memories left by the monster who had worn her lover's face…

"No!" Matt was yelling as a passenger broke under the strain and tried to run for the presumed safety of the bus. It was the big guy in the Raiders jacket. He looked and moved like he might have played college football somewhere in the not distant past. For his bulk, he moved surprisingly fast and he showed no hesitation before attempting to bull over a vampire which got in his way. Surprise was on his side, too, for he was actually able to stagger the demon with an unexpected blow to the temple and get past it. But the enraged monster quickly regained its footing and had brought the man to the ground long before he would have reached the bus.

The people… They needed help. They needed her help. They needed the Vampire Slayer.

She felt like she needed a day in a mall and a credit card with a very high spending limit but whatever.

"Excuse me." Buffy reprimanded Robert in her very best blond-bimbo voice. "I thought I made it clear- No visible hickeys." Her other fist came across to pound his pretty-boy face (well, at the moment it was sort of bumpy and ridgey and not really the most attractive) into pulp.

Robert stumbled back to land ungracefully in a clump of sagebrush. He clasped his hands protectively to his face. "I think you broke my bloody nose!"

She arched a brow at him. "And I'm supposed to care because…?" The commotion behind her had died down as everyone had slowed to watch their confrontation resume. As casually as she could, she readjusted her bandages and applied pressure to slow the bleeding from her severed artery. Regardless of Slayer healing, she had been dead on her feet before this little brawl had even started and a serious loss of blood was not helping her to feel any steadier on her feet. In fact, her vision was really kind of spotty and it felt like the world was spinning. Her limbs felt more like Jell-O Jigglers than weapons and her blood was still trying to spurt from her body with every weakening beat of her heart.

She smirked arrogantly at Robert. "So are you just going to sit there all night or are we going to fight sometime?"

The vampire looked surprised for a moment before scrambling back to his feet. Quickly regaining his equilibrium, his eyes hardened and he glared warningly at the other vampires before returning his attention to her. "As I was saying, I prefer my women to be passionate, sensual creatures capable of enjoying all that this world has to offer." Noticing the blood upon his hands, he gave it a slow lick and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "You obviously qualify." He wiped his fingers under his nose then delicately sucked the blood off.

"I repeat myself- are we going to fight sometime tonight or is this just a social call?" Buffy felt a growing horror fill her breast at his cold smile. 'He knows I can barely stand. There is no way I could take him like this.'

Robert gestured casually at the puddle of blood under her arm. "That seems like such a waste. Freddie," he called to one of his minions, "Why don't you see if you can find bowl or something. I'd hate to waste any of that good Grade-A Slayer blood."

The rest of the vampires made various sounds of fear and surprise and scrambled to put a little more distance between themselves and the Vampire Slayer.

Robert threw back his head and laughed disdainfully. "Calm down. She's not going to hurt any of you. Are you, kitten?" he asked condescendingly.

Buffy glared at him but did not reply, focusing her attention on applying pressure to the inside of her elbow to slow the blood flow to her wrist.

"I should have realized it sooner." He said to his minions as he circled around his bleeding subject. "She's from California, home of the infamous Hellmouth. A teenage girl, all alone, fighting the demons of the night with nothing but a stake, a cross," he disdainfully reached out and tore the necklace away from her unresisting neck, "and her belief that Good will somehow always triumph over Evil."

He circled around in front of her. "Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. William the Bloody. And Drusilla, the vampire witch. You stopped them all?"

Her eyes defiantly rose to meet his. "Yes."

He smiled and leaned in closer. "And I, a mere babe to the world of the vampire, I am the one to defeat you."

"Who says I'm defeated?" The hand she had been using to stop the blood flow lunged forward from under her coat grasping a wooden stake.

Robert's eyes grew wide with horror. He lunged backward, but not before the stake was impaled within his chest. "No!" he screamed, waiting to disintegrate into a pile of dust.

Buffy stumbled to her knees, completely spent by the sudden exertion. She couldn't even lift her head, only waiting for the cloud of ash as proof of her final success before she would allow herself to pass out.

Nothing happened.

Robert gaped down in disbelieving astonishment. "You- You missed." He wrenched the stake from his chest and fingered the remaining wound in laughing realization. "You missed!"

Buffy's eyes closed in bitter defeat and she allowed herself to sink to the ground, too tired and spent to even cry.

"Wraith!" a small, quivering voice called from beside her. "Wraith!"

Confused, Buffy opened her eyes and looked toward the direction of the call. It was the skinny, scared girl from the bus. She was trembling with fear but had somehow forced herself to get off the bus and creep through the distracted vampires until she could kneel beside the spent Slayer. Buffy tried to protest, to tell the girl to get away, to run for the protection of the circle of crosses, but all that emerged was a groan.

"Nest." Robert purred in delight. "So good to see you again."

"Get away from her." The trembling girl hissed at him over Buffy's prone body. Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her 'Slayer sense' snapped to life. It felt almost as if a mystical lighting bolt had passed over her and maybe one had, for she heard Robert yell in pain and crash to the ground farther away from her.

"Wraith." Nest snapped, her voice louder and more confident. "Keep the demons away from us."

To Buffy's 'Slayer Sense' it seemed as if magic seemed to suddenly rush together until it had formed a massive, dangerous figure. The newly-formed creature snarled viciously as it lunged forward. Buffy could hear the passengers cries of fear quickly die out, leaving only the vampires' screams and retreating curses. The passengers began to become excited and to attack the remaining vampires. She could hear them yell directions and encouragement to each other.

Loud popping noises accompanied by flashes of magic marked the appearance of Matt's promised reinforcements.

More 'mystic lighting bolts' began to fill the air around her. She realized that some of them were different, for she could see their blinding glare even through her haze-filled vision. Another monster had joined Wraith in his pursuit of the fleeing vampires, answering his ferocious howls with its own savage roars. Added to the shouts and yells of the passengers and the snarling of the vampires, the overall effect was not unlike that of a zoo where all of the animals had been turned lose.

She belatedly realized that she was being carefully rolled onto her back. The numbness, the lethargy, the weakness, she had experienced them all just over a year ago when she had been fed upon by vampire called The Master and left to drown in a stagnant underground pool. Buffy had died, as evidenced by the calling of another Vampire Slayer, but Xander and Angel had managed to bring her back through the timely use of CPR. She didn't think mouth-to-mouth was going to be enough this time.

Buffy's eyes were having trouble focusing. Nest's tear-filled eyes looked too big for her gaunt features. Buffy realized that the younger girl was covered with blood. Without the restraining pressure on her arm to act as a tourniquet, the severed blood vessel was spraying her remaining blood supply all over the poor kid. Nest had ripped off her jacket and was trying to stop the flow. The frantic adolescent was screaming at someone to hurry. Her voice sounded strangely distant.

Buffy's vision was beginning to go dark. She didn't feel as cold as she had earlier. The pain was still there, but it had diminished to the point of being something she was merely aware of. It was becoming harder to breathe and Buffy was discovering she really didn't care to make the effort.

"Look at me," Nest shrieked. "Look at me!"

She slapped the Slayer's cheek. Then slapped her again even harder.

The shock snapped Buffy back to alertness. Her surprised green eyes looked up to meet Nest's blazing blue ones.

"Look. At. Me." Nest ground out through gritted teeth as she desperately forced her magic through their locked gazes.

Buffy arched upward in a convulsion of unbelievable pain as molten steel seemed to slam in pressurized streams through every inch of her body, unable to tear her eyes away from Nest's. Her muscles were screaming in agony and it seemed impossible that her tendons and ligaments were not parting under the strain. Her body arched skyward, her neck pulling her head down and back as if she were in the late stage of a tetanus infection. Her lungs were too paralyzed by pain to even find the air to scream. Throughout the agonizing process, Buffy tortured gaze was forcibly held by Nest as the thin girl forced more and more of her magic into the dying Slayer.

After what seemed like an eternity of agony, the pain was replaced by a cool, soothing flow of comfort. She could almost hear the individual cells of her body sigh in relief. She sank down, completely exhausted and spent. The gentle flow continued to move throughout her body, soothing and comforting all of her various aches and pains until she seemed almost to be floating upon a cloud of euphoric peace.

Finally freed from whatever hold the younger girl had held upon her, Buffy closed her eyes. Great, salty tears of bitterness flowed down her cheeks as she slipped into unconsciousness. Why wouldn't they just let her die?


	3. Wake up call

Birds were happily chirping and singing close by.

That was the first thing Buffy noticed as she slowly arose into consciousness. She'd always thought it strange that the cute little chirps and whistles were territorial in nature- Get away from that worm. I saw it first! Oh, yeah? Then I'm going to claim this bush. That's my bush! Not anymore it's not. Oh, yeah? Yeah! Oh, yeah? Yeah!

Really not all that different from guys in high school. Not that that meant that it made any more sense but at least it showed that the whole thing must be based upon some kind of universal constant. Maybe that testosterone really did kill brain cells?

Buffy's attention was next caught by the assortment of smells carried over her face by a soft breeze. Lilac bushes in bloom. Roses and other flowery aromas. Fresh-cut grass. Fertilizer. Damp earth. And the wonderful smell of food. Apple pie. Chicken soup. Home-made rolls. Good smells. Yummy smells.

Her stomach growled hungrily and told her brain to get off its lazy duff and get it to the source of those saliva-inducing aromas.

Buffy groaned and slowly stretched. Her limbs and spine popped and snapped with the movement. She sat up, rolling her neck around as she did so.

Finally opening her eyes, Buffy found herself in a small but comfortable room. She was in a queen-sized bed under a Levi patch quilt. The bed stand next to her supported a clock 5:47 p.m., two large bouquets of flowers and one plastic cup stuffed with lilac blossoms. The walls were decorated with carefully hand-painted crafts, a small calendar from "Simpson Feed and Fertilizer" with this month's photo showing a line of cute red-and-white calves poking their heads out of their individual pens to gaze curiously in the direction of the camera, and a large framed picture of what Buffy assumed was Jesus healing a blind man.

As Buffy moved to stretch her arms out once more, she looked down to discover that someone had changed her clothes, dressing her in a T-shirt and pajama pants she'd had in her bag. Buffy blushed a little at the realization but quickly looked around the room for the rest of her belongings. Her bag lay next to a wooden chest against the opposite wall. A black leather jacket lay atop the chest.

Buffy rubbed away the sleep from her eyes then climbed out of bed. Her limbs still didn't have their usual strength and she felt a little light-headed, but she thought that a good meal would take care of that.

She hesitated on her way to the door to look in the full-length mirror. 'I look a mess,' she quickly concluded. She was sporting a serious case of bed head. The bandage covering her left hand and wrist only added to the impression that she had plugged herself into an electrical outlet. She'd lost weight, further reducing what curves she had managed to retain after over two years of being the Slayer. No make-up. And she didn't dare check to see how badly she needed a shower.

Quietly, she crossed the floor and opened the door enough to peer out. The bedroom she was in was at the end of a short hallway. A bathroom was located at the end of the hall, immediately to her right. A look through the slightly open door across the hall revealed another bedroom which, judging by the assortment of clothing strewn around the room, the posters liberally plastered to walls and ceiling , and the two unmade twin-size beds, was inhabited by a couple of young teenage girls.

Feeling awkward, having not yet even met her unexpected host, she nevertheless proceeded to use the bathroom. Having saved her bladder from spontaneously exploding, Buffy snagged an elastic from her bag to pull her hair back into some semblance of order before proceeding with her exploration of the house.

Farther down the hall lay a door, which she guessed concealed a third bedroom, and an archway which led into an office/library. A whole wall was dedicated to a fairly impressive collection of books, many of which were held together by duct tape or missing their covers completely. A computer desk and filing cabinet rested between the two windows. A couple of plants hung from the ceiling. Most of the remaining space was filled by an old sofa, a card table, and a set of shelves jammed with board and card games. Someone had left an unfinished game of Monopoly spread out on the floor.

Following the quite murmur of voices, Buffy continued down a short set of stairs into the kitchen. Like the rest of the house she had seen, it had a warm country house feel. Crayola masterpieces decorated the front of the fridge. An Oldies station was playing on the radio. More crafts and hand-painted items were spread throughout the room and hung from the walls. Several potted plants and flowers were scattered around the room and along the window sills. Three crisp apple pies had been set upon a cookie rack to cool, saturating the whole room with their heady aroma. An enormous pot of chicken dumpling soup was bubbling merrily away on the stove top.

Stirring the pot was a woman who could have stepped right out of Buffy's childhood books of fairy tales. The woman was a little on the plump side, with graying hair, red cheeks and laugh lines framing her smile and twinkling brown eyes. She was wearing a T-shirt which boldly proclaimed her to be "The World's Greatest Grandma" and unconsciously tapping her foot in time with the Beetles as she simultaneously prepared dinner and carried on a conversation with the second woman.

The second woman stood at the sink, her back toward the doorway in which Buffy stood, peeling cucumbers into the trash disposal. She was tall and athletic in build. Her auburn hair was fashionably cut short and styled. There was something about the second woman, perhaps a tenseness in her shoulders or the way her head wasn't turning to look at the first woman, that told Buffy that she was already aware of her presence.

"Uh, Hi." Buffy finally said.

The shorter woman gave a start, turning to identify the source of the sound. Upon sighting Buffy, she beamed warmly. "You're awake! Wonderful! We were so worried. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess." Buffy shrugged. "A little tired but good. The smell woke me up," she said pointing toward the cooking soup. "It smells amazing."

As Buffy had suspected, the taller woman didn't seemed at all surprised by Buffy's sudden appearance into their conversation. She carefully set the half-peeled cucumber and the peeler down before turning to face her. She smiled politely at Buffy.

Momentarily distracted by the tall woman, it took the teenager's mind a moment to process the shorter woman's continuous babble. "Wait," Buffy cut her off. "Did you say I was asleep for two days? All that stuff with the bus didn't happen last night?"

"No, dear." The shorter woman was moving her arms around in short little waving motions, obviously anxious to touch the teenager to reassure herself that Buffy was really all right but trying to restrain from doing so. "You've slept for over-" she cast a glance at a clock on the wall, "forty-two hours. We were so worried. Elizabeth kept telling us that you would be all right, she's had some medical training, you see. She said that you would wake up tonight. If you hadn't, we were going to rush you to a doctor first thing tomorrow morning. What you did, child! That was a very brave thing to do. Matt and Nest told us all about it."

While the grandmotherly woman happily rambled on, Buffy glanced back at the taller woman who she was assuming to be Elizabeth. The woman had moved forward, the same polite smile fixed under cautious, evaluating eyes. She now smoothly cut in on her friend, both verbally and physically. "Angie dear, would you mind if I went to help our young heroine freshen up for dinner while you finish up? Todd and the boys should be home soon and I'm sure that Buffy will want to make a good first impression."

Angie looked surprised but amiably agreed. "Sure thing. There are fresh towels in the cabinet to the left of the sink. She's welcome to whatever she can find." Turning toward Buffy, she went on warmly, "After everything you did to help Matt and poor little Nest, I know that the boys are all going to treat you like royalty. Please, make yourself at home. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks." Buffy answered with a warm smile of her own.

Elizabeth motioned for Buffy to lead the way back towards the stairs.

"How are you feeling?" Elizabeth softly repeated the same question as they moved up the stairs.

Buffy threw her a quick look. "Fine, like I said. Hungry. Still a little thrown by the whole Rip Van Winkle thing. But good."

"Good." The woman sounded slightly distracted, as if only half-listening to Buffy's response. "We were concerned that there might be… complications."

"Complications?" Buffy repeated suspiciously.

Elizabeth used her eyes to indicate back toward the direction of the kitchen in a warning gesture that they could still be overheard. "With any type of severe injury there is a risk of something going wrong- an infection developing, a certain organ or system not bouncing back as it should. We just want to be careful to take all of the necessary precautions."

By this time they had reached the end of the hallway. Buffy regarded her tall companion carefully for a moment before grudgingly nodding in acceptance of the current situation.

By unspoken consent, Buffy moved into her room to collect a spare change of clothing and a few toiletries from her belongings while Elizabeth entered the bathroom to lay out a fresh towel, washcloth and bar of soap.

When Buffy entered the bathroom, she found Elizabeth gazing vacantly into the mirror, the shower already running . "Please, shut the door," the woman quietly said.

"Okay." Buffy raised an eyebrow but did so. "What's with the cloak-and-dagger?"

Piercing blue-eyes turned to regard her carefully. "I'm afraid we don't have much time right now. There will be time later to answer more of your questions. For right now, we'll try to stick to the basics." She ticked the points off on her fingers, obviously having planned this conversation beforehand. "Todd and Angie Fields- the family you're staying with- don't know anything about magic or the supernatural world. As you saw, their son, Matthew, does. The Fields believed that Nest was coming here, at least in part, to avoid her father- a dangerous, abusive and extremely powerful man. They therefore attribute the attack on the bus to actions taken by her father."

"And was he responsible?" Buffy interrupted.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know." Buffy shrugged, taking a gamble. "It was pretty obvious that all A-positive snacks aside, Nest was the one they were after. If you've got that many vamps going after one person PLUS her little guard dog, Wraith, PLUS the kind of magic she was throwing around, well, I'm guessing Big Daddy isn't your everyday Mafia Don."

The dark-haired woman regarded her silently for a long moment through the steam-filled air. "Are you willing to drop this until later when we'll have more time to discuss this in private?"

Buffy met her gaze squarely. "Are you willing to tell me the truth or just stalling in order to come up with a more convincing story?"

A faint smile touched the older woman's lips, the first real smile that Buffy had seen her wear. "I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Buffy decided that was probably as good as she was going to get. "Deal," she chirped in her best Valley-girl voice. "Now going back to the cover story, what wonderful feat exactly am I supposed to have done?"

"You foiled an attempt to kidnap Nest and rallied the rest of the passengers to fight off a bunch of knife-welding cultists." There was a gleam of amusement in Elizabeth's eyes.

"I… rallied?" Buffy repeated, dumbfounded. "Knife-welding cultists? Not gangs on P.C.P.?"

Elizabeth blinked. "P.C.P.? Surely no one could really believe that…" she trailed off as she saw the look on Buffy's face. "P.C.P.? Really?"

"Afraid so," the Slayer confirmed. "And packs of wild dogs, natural gas leaks, food poisoning, mass hysteria… It's a long list."

The older woman spent a moment trying to digest that. "The human mind is a fascinating and extremely scary place."

"Amen to that."

A look of mutual understanding was exchanged before Elizabeth slid out the door.


	4. Wanted

When Buffy came down the stairs some minutes later, she felt much less like a ravenous filthy savage and more like a ravenous young woman. The tantalizing aromas emanating from the kitchen had, if anything, only grown even more appealing.

Judging from the increased number and volume of sounds coming from the various areas of the house, the rest of the family had returned home. The sonic barrage seemed to indicate that whatever the Fields family lacked in comparison to the full Marine Corps in numbers, they more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Upon entering the kitchen, she found that Angie and Elizabeth had found reinforcements to aid in the preparations for the coming assault. As soon as Angie discovered her presence, she was the recipient of the same hearty, beaming smile she had received earlier and warmly introduced into the chaotic hustle and bustle.

Angie's fourth son, Phil, was over for dinner along with his wife and their two children. With one small child perched upon his shoulders steering her father around the kitchen by the ears, another small child riding around on his foot, and both hands full of a still-hot pan of rolls, Phil gave her a lopsided smile and apologized for not shaking her hand before resuming making airplane noises and moving on into the dining room.

Two young teenage girls were busy setting the table. Angie intercepted them while they were on a silverware run between the dining room and the kitchen. She proudly introduced the red-headed girl as Marie, her oldest grandchild, who was helping out on the family farm for the summer. Marie was nearly bouncing up and down in excitement at the chance to speak with Buffy. Apparently Nest and Matt had taken great pains to describe in vivid detail how Buffy had protected the bus passengers from the cultists and Marie wanted to know how much Buffy would charge for some martial arts lessons.

Buffy recognized the second girl, Nest, from the attack on the bus. Like Buffy, she seemed to have lost some weight from her already lean frame and appeared paler. Marie happy chirped in with the information that Nest had only left her own bed that morning. Whether Nest's own exhaustion had been a result of over-exerting herself to save Buffy, a consequence of previous events or a combination of the two, Buffy didn't know.

The Slayer considered Nest more carefully. She had the beginnings of the same athletic figure as her Aunt Elizabeth, but lacked her confidence and self-composure. The younger girl still possessed an innocence, a tenderness, that Buffy was willing to bet her aunt had lost long ago. Nest shyly dipped her eyes when she realized she had become the focus of Buffy's attention.

"Hey," Buffy said. "It's good to see you again."

"You, too." She played nervously with the utensils in her hands.

The Slayer gave her a warm smile. "Thanks for what you did."

Nest shrugged self-consciously and mumbled, "It was nothing."

"Maybe it wasn't a big deal for you," Buffy said. "But you saved my life and the lives of all the rest of those people. Seems to me that would make you the hero.

The younger girl blushed brightly in embarrassment.

"Thank you." Buffy repeated.

Nest could only nod. She scurried away with Marie in fast pursuit demanding details as to this previously unheard chapter of the Bus Ambush Adventure.

Buffy watched her go with a yearning heart. Nest was still so young but her eyes were growing old so quickly. Something or someone had hurt the young girl badly.

The Slayer within her breast stirred, aroused by her anger, but Buffy pushed her back down. It wasn't time for her. Not yet.

Turning from watching Nest's retreating form, her eyes met Elizabeth's. The understanding warmth they had held upstairs had vanished, leaving glacial ice in its stead. Buffy had seen the same cold threat before and wondered if the woman might somehow be related to Giles. Both seemed to be extremely protective of their charges and Buffy didn't doubt that Elizabeth could be dangerous if she thought the Slayer was a threat to Nest.

Which only strengthened Buffy's suspicion that there was something about Nest that Elizabeth feared would make the Slayer a threat to the young girl.

Angie innocently cut in, breaking their locked gazes. "And you've already met Matthew."

Buffy turned to smile at the teenage boy. "The brave knight." She greeted.

He smiled awkwardly at the compliment. This was her first good look at him. He was of normal height but sturdy build. His hair was a mess of muddled browns and was currently suffering the effects of hat-hair. The same cap which had smashed down his hair had also protected the upper portion of his face from the sun's rays but left the lower portion exposed until it was deeply tanned. He looked a little on the studious side of the spectrum, quiet and serious, with a weight in his gaze that suggested a maturity beyond his age.

"How are you feeling?" Matt asked.

"Good." Buffy assured him, wondering how many times she was to be asked that question. Her stomach growled noisily in threatened mutiny. "But I seem to have missed a meal or two."

He grinned. "Mom's cooking will fix that fast enough."

"If Matt leaves you any." Another man joked after greeting Angie with a kiss. He held out a hand. "I'm Todd Fields, father of this bottomless-pit you helped get out of that situation on the bus." His big, rough hand engulfed hers in a firm squeeze. "We're pleased to have you with us. Please make yourself at home. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." His steady gaze held hers far more firmly than did his thick, callused fingers. Buffy liked the big man at once.

For a moment, Buffy felt almost as if he were somehow gazing on her soul, her life, not in judgment but in a frank evaluation of who and what she was. In a comforting way it reminded her of her grandfather. Whenever she would go up to stay with her grandfather on the ranch, there would be a moment when he would wait until their eyes would meet and he would ask the simple words, "How's my little Sunshine doing?" Somehow her grandfather had seemed to learn more about her from that brief moment of locked gazes than anyone else could through weeks of talking. When she was eight, he had somehow known that she had brought a special surprise for him. When she was thirteen, he had known that she had planned to sneak out to meet up with a boy. When she was fourteen and her parents' marriage was failing again, he had sadly nodded before taking her into town for ice cream and to tell her stories from the war that he had previously refused to share with anyone in the family.

And when she was fifteen, the last time she would ever see him alive, when he had come to visit her in the mental institution, his eyes had filled with tears despite her desperate attempts to hide everything from him. The rare sight of her grandfather crying shocked her enough that she too had begun crying until she was a sobbing mess, huddled like a little girl within his strong arms as she poured out the whole story. Her grandfather had soothed her tears and healed her soul then quietly left her room radiating power like Buffy had never felt before. Buffy imagined it must have been similar to what the Israelites must have felt when Moses stepped forward and commanded the Red Sea to part. It had felt as if the walls had trembled at his anger and would have crumbled if her grandfather had given the word. Buffy had hugged her legs close to her in the corner, hoping and believing for the first time in weeks that everything was going to be made alright again. Her grandfather had returned about an hour later. Buffy swore that he had almost seemed to be glowing. The scowl on his face had faded when he saw her pleading, hopeful expression. With a triumphant grin he had told her that she was getting out.

Buffy held her gaze steady as Todd Fields looked into her eyes. The eyes were a different color and some of the wrinkles were missing but the feeling was so much like her grandfather...

Todd seemed to almost nod to himself before giving her another smile. This smile was slower, not quick and easy like his previous grin, but slow and deep as if it originated from somewhere deep inside.

Buffy felt a burst of joy and pride radiate within her chest. Everyone in the room seemed to have slightly hesitated while Todd was studying her. His smiling acceptance of Buffy's presence seemed to jolt everyone back into the loud, laughing, hurrying bustle of preparing dinner for such a large group.

If Todd noticed the eased tension he gave no sign. "Just make sure you eat quickly." He told her in a stage whisper. "Normally Angie makes enough food to get us by but with both Matt and Phil here we might be in trouble."

Matt snorted from across the room and shot back, "I'm not the one Mom's threatening to put on a diet."

Todd shook his head slightly and patted is midriff mournfully. "No one understands," he confided to Buffy with a wink. "This all really just muscle. And muscle takes a lot of energy to maintain."

"If that's all just muscle," Matt suggested as he passed with a pitcher of milk, "Maybe I should cut back my hours on the farm so you can put those bulging biceps to work."

His father grinned. "And deprive my sons of the opportunity to learn self-discipline and how to be hard-workers? I could never be so selfish."

Matt snorted and rolled his eyes. "Now I've heard everything."

"Dinner's ready!" Marie called.

"Well, let's eat." Todd nodded toward the waiting dining room where everyone seemed to be assembling. After a couple of steps, he paused. "Any special dietary needs we should know about? Allergies? Vegetarian?"

"No." Buffy assured him. "I'm good with whatever."

He smiled warmly, resuming his long strides. "Then you're in for a real treat tonight. Angie's chicken and dumpling soup is the best you'll find anywhere. But save some room for dessert. Folks have been known to come from all over the world for that pie. I remember one young man in particular. Flew in all the way from Russia. Poor guy staggered in the door and crawled on his hands and knees into the kitchen, following the smell from a couple of fresh-baked pies. It took a whole pie and a quart of ice cream to satisfy him."

Phil's wife poked her husband playfully in the gut. "It looks like most of that is still sticking around, too."

Phil grinned unabashedly. "What can I say? I'm a man who knows what he wants." He added suggestively as he grabbed his wife's hand and pulled her close.

Marie pulled a face and made retching sounds at her uncle's antics.

"And on that elegant note," Angie gave her granddaughter a disapproving look. "Why don't we all sit down and eat?"

Buffy quickly found herself being dragged toward the table by Marie, who wanted to make sure that they would sit next to each other.

Framed photographs of the Fields family covered one wall, showing off their newest grandchildren as well as black-and-white pictures of stern-looking men and women from before the turn of the century. Buffy decided that, judging from the number of pictures, it was a good thing the Fields family didn't seem to have ambitions of taking over the world.

The food was as good as she'd been promised it would be. Phil dominated most of the dinner conversation with jokes and stories that had Buffy laughing so hard that twice she snorted chicken soup out her nose. Of course that only encouraged further laughter from everyone else.

By the end of the meal, Buffy had managed to consume two big bowls of soup, three buttered rolls, a little bit of everything from the relish tray, and two slices of pie topped with vanilla ice cream. She would have felt like a pig but everyone else had several servings themselves, in accordance with Angie's friendly urging. Besides, Phil had four servings of pie and he was still pretty lean, so it couldn't be that bad for her thighs.

By meal's end, Buffy found herself in a very pleasant and drowsy state. Marie was happily boasting to an appreciative Phil about Nest's first attempt at driving a tractor. Nest, for her part, was mostly keeping her head ducked but was smiling shyly at the praise.

Buffy hid a yawn behind her hand and looked at the nearest clock. 9:07. You'd think that after two days of being unconscious her body would be sick of sleeping but no, it was already demanding her return to Never-Never Land.

Todd noticed her yawn and squeezed Angie's hand, using a nod of his head to direct her attention to Buffy's sleepy state.

When Marie's recitation of the day's events drew to a close, Angie rose and began to clear the table. "Marie, why don't you and Nest take the kids and go play downstairs? We'll take care of the dishes tonight."

Marie jumped to her feet and grabbed Buffy's hand. "Do you want to come with us?"

Angie cut her off gently. "Phil needs to talk to Buffy about the attack on the bus."

The younger girl scowled but obeyed, taking Nest and the younger children with her. The two remaining women rose and began to assist Angie in carrying the dishes into the kitchen. Matthew also stood up.

"I guess I'll go ahead and go fork in hay." He told his father.

Todd nodded. "Watch for 262. Marcus said he thought she might be going into labor."

"Do you want me to check on that sick calf?" Matthew asked

"If you don't mind." Todd agreed. "Just give it some Spectrum for tonight if it still has scours and make a note on the board for your mom."

"Okay." Matthew said. He looked at Buffy, who by now was feeling neither comfortable nor drowsy. During the course of dinner Phil had made reference to the fact that he was a police officer. If they were planning on getting her official report of the bus ambush she needed to know what the cover story was.

Ignoring Buffy's glare, Matthew merely nodded at her before leaving.

Taking a slow breath, Buffy looked back towards the two remaining men and flashed them her most innocent smile. "What's up?"

The corners of Phil's mouth turned up in amusement.

Buffy felt a sinking feeling as she met his eyes and realized that he was much smarter than one would think from his clownish manner.

"There's nothing to worry about." He reassured her. "It's just that it's been two days and we still haven't been able to talk with the hero of hour. We were hoping to have a chance to sit down with you at the station and get your account of what happened- what you saw and heard, any possible descriptions of the attackers, identifying marks, anything they might have said- the usual."

"I'm sorry." Buffy said. "But I'm afraid that everything is kind of hazy right now."

"That's alright." Phil said. "I guess that's to be expected after being unconscious for two days. Maybe it will be clearer tomorrow."

"Maybe tomorrow." Buffy agreed, relieved.

After a moment, she realized that neither man had moved and that, if anything, they had only become more serious.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Todd took over the conversation.

"Buffy." Todd finally said. "What you did to save the rest of the passengers on that bus took a lot of courage. It also required wisdom on your part. We need you to use some of that wisdom now."

"You saved those peoples' lives." He continued. "You saved my son's life and I'll always be grateful for that. I think you're a good young woman with a lot of potential. I believe that, given the opportunity, you really have the ability to become a great person. What you did on the bus has made you a bit of a local hero. But more importantly, you've made yourself some pretty strong allies and proven what kind of person you really are inside."

"What are you getting at?" Buffy asked.

"You saved the family members of a police officer and most of the rest of the local police had friends or neighbors on that bus. And you nearly died saving those passengers. Because of that the local police officers all came to a sort of silent agreement to buy you a couple of days reprieve before they did anything. They didn't want you to wake up in a prison hospital."

"What?" Buffy wasn't sure when she had risen to her feet.

"Phil and some of the others have been quietly backtracking this thing and it sounds like the Sunnydale P.D. doesn't have much solid evidence. With all of the character witnesses willing to testify on your behalf for what you did on the bus, your chances look pretty good."

The Slayer was rising up inside her. Buffy gripped her hands tightly together, fighting to restrain the spirit. "What are you talking about?"

Todd and Phil exchanged glances. Phil removed a stack of papers from a manila envelope he had set under his chair at the beginning of dinner.

There was a figure standing outside the window. The Slayer could feel the dark presence and was howling to be released, straining against the restrictions imposed upon her by her mortal vessel.

Buffy looked up in a daze, even as Phil pushed the papers across the desk towards her. A man stood in the yard just beyond the edge of the light. He made no movement, only studied her with cold blue eyes.

Buffy looked down at the papers in front of her. They were "Wanted" posters for one Buffy Summers. Among the charges, she was wanted for breaking and entering, assaulting multiple police officers and first degree murder.

Her heartbeat was a deafening pounding in her ears.

She was wanted for murder.

The presence outside was taunting The Slayer, mocking her inability to break free from her human host.

Buffy was wanted by the police. But that was impossible. She hadn't done anything wrong. She was the Vampire Slayer. She protected people.

She just needed to think back.

Why had she been on the bus in the first place? Why had she left Sunnydale? How could anyone possibly believe she had committed these crimes?

The blue eyes were retreating, moving back from the window, allowing the Slayer to grudgingly settle back down.

"I can't remember." The words were spoken so softly that the two men almost wondered if they had imagined them.

The slight girl took a deep, quivering breath. "I can't-… I can't-…"

She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them. Her slender frame was trembling. Pleading green eyes shot up to meet those of the two men.

"I can't remember." A single tear tracked down her cheek. "I can't remember any of it."


	5. Midnight negotiations

Buffy lay in bed, staring blankly at the night sky through the open window. Several hours had passed without a change in her position.

What had happened to her? Was she under some kind of spell? Had she been sucked into an alternative dimension? Possessed?

Had she really murdered Kendra, her sister Slayer? The police report said she had been found at the murder scene with the murder weapon still clutched in her bloody hands.

Why had Kendra been in Sunnydale anyway?

Buffy had assaulted the officers who had attempted to arrest her. Over the course of the same night, she had evaded police on at least two separate occasions, once violently. The last report indicated that she had been accompanied by a lean, peroxide-blonde man with a Cockney accent. It had to have been Spike, the infamous William the Bloody, the vampire who'd slaughtered, maimed or terrorized most of Europe at some time in the last two centuries.

No power on earth could have ever made her willingly go anywhere with that cocky vampire.

Had she been framed? Was this whole thing just an elaborate set-up? Some kind of mystical manipulation?

Or was she really going insane?

Her thoughts flew back to the events leading up to her commitment in the mental instituiation. To the drugs which had bound her more tightly than any restraint. To the people who worked at the institute. To-

Buffy snarled and forced her thoughts away from the unwanted path.

She wasn't insane or delusional. She never had been.

She refused to believe she had given into the darkness. She was the Vampire Slayer. She had dedicated too much, sacrificed too much, to believe that she would ever commit such crimes without just cause. She was innocent and she would prove it.

But how?

A soft knock sounded at her door.

Buffy glanced at the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. The silence in the house had led her to believe that everyone else had already gone to bed.

"It's open." Buffy grimaced to herself. Evidence supporting Darwin. You learn to never give a direct invitation on the Hellmouth or you don't live long.

The door opened to reveal Elizabeth. She seemed to have known that she would find Buffy awake. The tall woman entered and shut the door behind her before speaking. "I think we need to talk."

Buffy eyed her for a moment before nodding. "Okay." The way she dragged out the word combined with a half-concealed glare indicated that the Slayer thought this conversation was long overdue. Buffy indicated a chair for the other woman to sit in.

Elizabeth gracefully moved across the darkened room and sat down.

The two women regarded each other in silence.

The older woman fought to show no outward sign of emotion as the teenager's eyes locked with hers. Enough of the Slayer was revealed, smoldering in their emerald depths, to cause the hair on the back of the woman's neck to stand up and a queasy feeling to spread throughout her belly. The force trapped within this slight girl was an intimidating one, and not something to that one should dismiss lightly.

She met the Slayer's gaze calmly and held it until Buffy grudgingly nodded.

Elizabeth inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement before speaking. "I shall attempt to be direct and to the point. In regards to the legal charges against you, I am in complete ignorance. Being unfamiliar with Sunnydale and the Hellmouth, I am not in a position to impose any type or form of judgment. In an expression of gratitude for your efforts on behalf of my niece, I have taken the liberty of employing certain resources to investigate the matter. A preliminary report should be available within two days time. I shall keep you fully informed."

Buffy smirked. "Do all Brits have to cram as many fancy words as possible in every conversation or am I just lucky?"

A smile flickered across Elizabeth's mouth at the comment. "One must do one's part to uphold the nobility of the Queen's English."

The teenager snorted. "Here in the colonies we really couldn't care less about the Queen." She smirked suggestively and added, "On the other hand, those princes deserve a second glance or five."

The dark woman smiled slightly in response.

Another period of silence settled between them as the two women regarded each other.

Buffy was the first to speak. "It was Nest, wasn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Elizabeth paused before grudgingly nodding. "I am afraid that that seems to be the case."

Buffy nodded tiredly and looked out the window. "She didn't know what she was doing and messed things up." Again it wasn't really a question.

"Yes." The dark woman admitted.

"How bad is it?" Buffy asked quietly.

"Your missing memories seem to be merely blocked rather than erased." Elizabeth said. "The effects should just be temporary. Whether that means that you'll be able to remember everything by tomorrow or ten years from now, I have not yet been able to determine."

The teenager looked back at her. "Can anything be done to speed it up? It looks like I'm headed for court soon and I don't think the judge is going to buy selective amnesia due to a messed-up spell."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Attempting such a thing would almost certainly cause further damage and could cause the loss to become permanent."

"Yay me." Buffy sighed. "Any other good news?"

"Unfortunately, yes." The dark woman answered. "This was not Nest's first attempt at healing. While she is inexperienced and untutored, she has been able to successfully perform healing magic in the past. One of Nest's friends nearly died from a beating he received from his mother's boyfriend. Nest was able to save his life and successfully bring him out of a coma. If she was able to do that, then healing you should not have been much different."

Elizabeth was watching the younger woman intently, trying unsuccessfully to gauge Buffy's response to what she was being told. "Clayton and Nest said that you appeared tired and worn out even before the attack on the bus. Your hands were wrapped and bandaged. Robert," she seemed to struggle a bit on the name, "made references to several powerful vampires rumored to have been in the Sunnydale area."

Buffy nodded and cut in. "Spike and Dru."

Elizabeth gave her a strange look before continuing.

"During the course of that night, a fully-trained Vampire Slayer was killed, no simple thing by any stretch of the imagination. The police reports seem to indicate that you were present or somehow involved. Finally, and certainly not least in importance, the Hellmouth was opened for a short period of time before someone was able to reclose it."

"The Hellmouth was opened?" Buffy repeated. She had grown pale and her hands were clenched tightly onto the quilt.

The older woman nodded grimly. "Temporarily. Present reports indicate that it is doubtful that anything escaped."

Buffy nodded and motioned for Elizabeth to continue, not trusting her voice as the memories from the previous year came rushing forward.

Elizabeth concluded, "All of the evidence indicates that an event of epic proportions occurred in Sunnydale. I believe that you were deeply involved in it. My hypothesis is that, while you were able to emerge from the incident physically sound, your emotional/psychological well-being was extremely damaged. To the point that Nest's magic actually identified those memories as wounds and sealed them away from your consciousness."

Buffy regarded her blankly. "Huh?'

The British woman sighed. "When you were learning to ride a bike as a child, you would sometimes crash and skin your knee, right?"

The teenager nodded.

"As a defense mechanism, your body would cause the wound to scab over so that the damaged area could heal."

"Mom always warned me it would scar if I picked at it." Buffy added helpfully.

"Indeed." The older woman looked amused, having deduced some time ago that the teenager was much more intelligent than she let on and that she had merely wanted a little extra time to digest what she had been told. "In effect, your psyche redirected a portion of the healing magic Nest provided to form a "scab" over certain memories which your psyche was incapable of coping with at the time."

Elizabeth met the younger woman's gaze squarely. "I am aware of some of the horrific experiences which regularly constitute the life of a Vampire Slayer. Yet your memories of those experiences seems to have remained intact. The obvious implication is that the blocked memories contain events which were significantly more intense and traumatizing."

"You're just bursting with good news, aren't you?" Buffy groaned and threw herself back on the bed.

"I believe your subconscious has already begun to try to process some portion of those memories." Elizabeth continued smoothly. "Before you woke up this afternoon, you had begun to toss and turn in your sleep and evidenced having bad dreams. Despite your apparent fatigue, you have not been able to sleep tonight for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a stretch."

Okay, Buffy thought, she's definitely lacking in the respect-the-privacy-of-others category.

"You haven't even asked about the possibility of calling anyone back in Sunnydale." The dark woman said. "Why?"

Buffy ducked her head and looked away before she could stop herself. She toyed with one of the ties on the quilt for a moment before answering. "I don't want to."

"Don't want to or can't?"

Silence

"Are you afraid to call everyone in Sunnydale?"

The quilt was an interesting mix of fabric, composed mostly of various colors of denim but with an occasional block of other fabrics. There was a red on white flower print by her left elbow. Down by her right foot was a button pocket from a pair of khakis.

"I was going to call them." Buffy protested weakly. "I just thought it might be better if I waited until after I knew more." It was a lie.

Elizabeth eyed her before nodding. "It's your decision to make." She rose to her feet and removed a small vial of a pale green liquid from her pocket. "This is a sleeping potion." She told Buffy as she set it on the bed stand next to the bouquets of flowers. "It is not a Dreamless Sleep potion but I think it would be best to allow your subconscious to process what it can now and not wait to dump all of those memories on you at once."

"I am always available if you need anything." Elizabeth offered as she rose to her feet. "As the blocks begin to fade, your subconscious will begin to process those memories before your conscious mind will have access to them. I would recommend you find some means for an outlet, such as a journal, which will help you cope with the emotions and organize the emerging memories so that they make sense."

Elizabeth studied Buffy for a moment longer. Apparently satisfied, the older woman suggested, "If there is nothing else, I'll leave you to your sleep."

"I'm fine." Buffy assured her. "Have a good night."

"You as well." The older woman inclined her head and left the room.

Buffy lay back down and resumed her previous inspection of the night sky, thinking about the conversion which had just occurred.

After a few minutes, she remembered the potion on the bed stand and picked it up. The pale green liquid reminded her of a tea that an old neighbor of hers used to drink. The neighbor had tried to give Buffy some one summer afternoon when she had been helping the old lady with her flower beds. Buffy had thought the tea had tasted 'like cat poop' and had dumped it into one of the flower beds when the old lady wasn't looking. The next week when one of her neighbor's prize rose bushes died, Buffy swore to her friends that it was right where she had dumped the tea.

With a sigh Buffy pulled the cork out of the vial and gingerly held the opening under her nose. She was pleasantly surprised by the cool aroma of fresh mint. Buffy gingerly tasted the solution and grimaced. The mint initially drowned out the flavor of the potion but the aftertaste was horrible. It actually did taste like her neighbor's 'cat poop tea.' Buffy braced herself and quickly finished off the potion.

The potion kicked in mere seconds after Buffy had resettled herself under the blankets and she was soon fast asleep.

An infrared scope and a parabolic microscope had allowed a distant observer to monitor what had just occurred in the Vampire Slayer's bedroom from his camouflaged position atop a nearby haystack. The shadowy figure replayed the contents of the conversation in his head as he continued to observe the exhausted girl twitch and moan unhappily in her sleep. He frowned around the unlit cigarette held in the corner of his mouth.

The Slayer might be a powerful weapon but the girl wasn't ready for the world she had just entered.


	6. Mud Wrasslin

_Big thanks to all those who have provided feedback. Sorry it took so long to update. Between going to school fulltime, working over thirty hours each week, preparing for the MCAT and a newborn baby, my number of free hours each week didn't really allow much time for writing. Now that I'm finally caught back up with everything I hope to be able to update much more frequently and regularly. Please keep the feedback coming!_

_Once again, almost all of these characters (with the exception of Buffy) are my original characters but the universes they come from belong to others._

Compared to the Sunnydale sewers, tromping through six-inch deep manure wasn't so bad. At least here on the farm she was wearing knee-high PVC boots instead of a cute pair of sandals.

"Watch out!" Matt shouted desperately.

Buffy swung her whip at the onrushing monster and yelled. The long fiberglass pole bent in half under the sudden acceleration and the tasseled cord at its end slapped the Slayer across the face. Fresh, wet manure from previous attempts at using the flexible tool stuck to her face and hair.

Buffy scowled as the wild-eyed cow raced past.

"I hope you end up a Burger King special!" she called after the fleeing heifer.

"You okay?" Marie panted as she came up from behind Buffy.

"I think my pride is mortally wounded but the rest of me is fine." Buffy tried to wipe away the green goop but only managed to smear it over a larger portion of her face.

"You're still swinging the whip too hard." Marie carefully suggested.

Buffy scowled at the same suggestion that she had been hearing all morning. "I'm trying! I just get a little excited when one of those one-ton bulldozers comes rushing straight at me."

Marie turned to look as Mario, one of the farm's employees, finished chasing the escaped heifer around the corral and was bringing it back around toward the gate. "You ready to try again?"

The blond girl wordlessly nodded and moved back into her position in line. As the heifer approached the gate, the animal found itself between a wooden fence and a barrier of shouting, waving people which funneled her toward the corral exit. As usual, along with the desired animal a few extra heifers were moving down the funnel toward the gate. The trick was in preventing the unwanted animals from exiting the corral while ensuring that the desired heifer did go through the gate. The problem was complicated by the fact that they had tried to remove the same heifer three times already- not only was the animal high on adrenaline but it already knew that, while a whiplash on the nose might sting a little bit, she could close her eyes and easily ram her way through the human barrier.

As the selected heifer, number 978, moved towards the opening of the funnel, Mario smoothly but quickly wove his way through the trotting animals, cutting-off or turning away most of the extras before they were able to enter the human funnel. Marie, the first human post of the funnel, managed to divert two more of the extras away from the gate but the rapid movement caused #978 to break into a run which was quickly imitated by the animals in front of her.

Nest, the next person in the funnel, was only able to keep the remaining rush of four animals moving down the funnel.

Buffy had learned by this point that attempting to cut out one of the leading extras would only cause the rest of the rushing cattle to follow the escapee out of the funnel. Unable to do anything but keep the animals within the barrier, she waited while the big animals galloped towards the open gate.

Standing in the center of the gate, Matt cast a wary glance over his shoulder to ensure that none of the animals from the other corral would try to sneak through before moving to intercept the onrushing group. He shouted and slapped his whip on the noses of the unwanted animals to turn them around. A disgruntled Buffy noted that Matt never even came close to hitting himself with the whip. When she had pointed out (whined about) that little fact earlier he had merely shrugged and said that he'd been herding cows since he was five.

The lead animals turned around to escape the stinging lash. The remaining four animals milled about in front of the gate as the human barrier swung around to block in the circling heifers. When everyone was in position, the herders cautiously began to remove the extra animals.

Mario, an experienced hand at managing the big animals, stepped to one side and used his whip to divert one of the milling animals through the opened hole. As soon as the selected animal was past, he smoothly moved back into position to prevent #978 from escaping again.

Nest was the next to manage to remove one of the extra animals. When the milling animals were swinging in her direction, she dropped her whip to allow the lead heifer to escape then shouted and swung her whip wildly about to keep #978 within the human fence.

Now down to just two heifers, Matt moved aside to tempt the remaining animals to go through the gate. The extra animal started toward the open gate but hesitated when her companion instead rushed towards the smallest human in the whip barrier.

Buffy grimaced at #978's approach. 'Not again.' The slender blond waved her arms, shouted and swung the whip about but the heifer didn't alter her course. The girl swung the whip toward the face of the giant bearing down on her, being careful this time to keep her arm fully extended. The lash came down on the nose of the animal just as Buffy had hoped. The sudden sting caused the big animal to yank its head around.

Unfortunately the thick, soft manure which Buffy and the heifer were standing in did not provide very secure footing for an abrupt change of direction. Particularly not for a clumsy, nearly 1000 pound animal running at full speed.

The heifer's wildly churning front legs shot out from under it as the animal's momentum carried it unchecked directly toward the slender girl. Buffy attempted to lunge to one side to avoid the sliding beast but found her own footing to be no better. Buffy managed to throw herself forward only a couple of feet, landing on one knee in the sloppy mess.

The struggling heifer collided into the young woman.

Everyone present stood frozen in shock.

"Buffy!" Nest shrieked, the first to recover, lunging toward the fallen girl. The others were not far behind.

The thrashing heifer managed to get its feet under it and heave itself to its feet. As the animal rose, however, a small hand grasped firmly onto its neckrope, forcing the animal to pull the hand's owner up as well.

Once upright again, Buffy glowered at the offending animal. "I'm going to be smelling like cow crap for a week thanks to you. If you have a single working brain cell in that thick skull of yours you will be through that gate before I count to five." The Slayer shook her whip to clear off some of the accumulated manure. "One."

The trembling animal took a couple of step back from the seething girl.

"Two." Buffy advanced upon the retreating heifer.

Number 978 turned around and began to move toward the gate.

"Three."

The heifer flicked its ears nervously and broke into a trot.

"Four!" The Slayer yelled in warning, chasing after the fleeing cow with whip upraised.

The heifer broke into a run, racing past a gaping Matt and through the open gate.

After sending a final glare after the fleeing cow, Buffy closed the gate and secured the chain. Turning around, the girl found a half-circle of faces watching her. She opened her mouth to demand to know what they were all staring at before realization came. She looked down at herself in shock. Sometime during the wild scramble/calf-wrestling match she had lost her cap and one boot. Her entire front side, from her chest down, was covered in fresh manure. Her hands, arms and various other areas of her body were also sporting a layer of cow crap.

Buffy looked up as a cloud of pigeon, startled by a cat, burst into the sky and flew overhead with the sound of hundreds of wings.

The blond girl looked back down at herself and chuckled. Another look at the circle of nervous faces watching her caused her to burst into a full, from-deep-in-the-belly laugh. She imagined that, wherever he was, her grandfather was laughing with her.


	7. Shower

_Wow. It's been over three years since my last update. Life has been… complicated. I guess when the floor is buckling beneath your feet you grab for whatever support you can. Buffy and company are always there- smart, funny and with enough darkness to empathize. So here is to the pretty blond in the miniskirt with the stake and crossbow…._

The temperature control for the shower was backwards but there was nothing wrong with the water pressure. The hot spray worked at the knots in her shoulders and neck, massaging away tension that she hadn't realized she had been feeling.

What had happened in Sunnydale? Why had she been on the bus? Where had she been going?

Buffy opened her eyes to watch the last of the green sludge sliding down the drain and smirked slightly. She'd spent enough time on her grandfather's ranch growing up that even three years ago she wouldn't have been too bothered by getting a little splattered out in the corral. As long as it wasn't her clothes getting ruined, that is. Since being called to be the Vampire Slayer two and a half years ago she had frequently been forced to endure far worse than a little cow manure.

Why didn't she want to call Giles? Or her mom? Willow or Xander?

Her stomach clenched at the thought, the relaxing muscles in her shoulders instantly tensing until she could almost feel the painful knots reforming.

She sighed, and turned the temperature of the water up even further. "Lobster Buffy" would recover. One of the perks of being the Slayer.

Kendra was dead. Murdered. And Buffy was suspected of being the murderer. And Buffy didn't know if she had really done it or not.

She thought again about calling back to Sunnydale to get some answers.

There was something wrong in her chest. A cold, tightening pressure that made it hard to breath. Her stomach clenched so hard that it hurt. Her heart physically ached, its beat erratic. She sunk to the bottom of the tub, wrapping herself into a trembling ball.

A soft keening struggled through the falling water. It took her a moment to recognize that she was the source of the sound.

That acknowledgement acted like a crack in a dam. Tears and ragged sobs soon followed.

She hated her father. Hated his lies and broken promises. Hated his expensive gifts and fake apologies. Hated the way he had hurt her mother.

She hated herself for the way she had loved him, trusted him. Hated herself for what she had allowed him to do. Hated herself for being too scared, too weak, to ever tell anyone.

She hated herself for still loving him. For still groveling for his approval, still feeling so ridiculously happy at the tiniest sign that he might actually love her too.

What he had done hadn't been too bad. Buffy knew that a lot of girls had suffered worse. And that made her own weakness all the more apparent, the guilt stronger.

It had mostly been little things. Stepping out of the shower to find him in the bathroom. Her father entering her room without knocking when he knew that she would be changing clothes. Waking up to find her father standing next to her bed and the blankets all pulled away.

Then there were the business trips. Wonderful father-daughter vacations when he would finally pay attention to her. They would go out to ice-shows, visit the zoo and eat at fancy restaurants. He would look at her, listen to her, ask questions. He would always apologize for how much time his job took, for allowing the stress to ruin their relationship. He'd ask about school, her friends, boys she was interested in, her favorite music. Buffy would skip and laugh and glow that she actually had a father again.

Then would come the hotel room that night. He always got a single king sized bed, saying that all of the rooms with double beds were already taken. Sometimes, on those nights, something would change. There would be something different about the way he looked at her, the way he would stroke her hair and touch her back.

On those nights Buffy would always go to bed early, leaving him seated at his computer with the screen turned carefully away from her. His eyes would flicker up to look at her occasionally with an expression made Buffy feel uncomfortable. She slept with her back to him on those nights.

Once she had tried to sneak a peek at what was on the computer while he had been in the bathroom. He had burst out of the bathroom just as she was reaching for the mouse and yelled at her about respecting his clients' confidential information.

He sometimes gave her new pajamas on their trips. She'd wear them to make him happy but on the strange nights she wished that she could just wear her regular shorts and t-shirt.

She didn't like waking up on the bad nights. Her nightshirt would be too high or the buttons would have come undone. Or her father would be asleep but holding her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Sometimes her panties would be missing. Her father glowered at her when she asked about it, saying that she sometimes did things in her sleep and that maybe she need to see a therapist. Once she woke up to feel her father's hands. She lain silent and still, too shocked and scared and guilty to move, before finally pretending to stir in her sleep. Her father had frozen in place before carefully withdrawing and rolling back to his own side of the bed.

The mornings after the bad nights, her father was always extra generous, buying her extravagant gifts and striving to fulfill her every whim. The business trips were often cut short after those nights. They'd return home and within a couple of days her father was more withdrawn from her than ever before.

Buffy's freshman year was hell. Along with the regular drama and angst of being a teenager, she'd been called to be The Chosen One with all of the accompanying baggage, scary nightmares, freakish changes, monsters and responsibilities. Her friends had abandoned her. School had become a daily lesson in persecution. Merrick, her first Watcher, defender, guardian and friend, been killed in front of her by an ancient vampire who was stalking her.

The year had also included Buffy's last and final trip with her father.

Seattle. For three days and nights Buffy and her father had enjoyed everything that the Emerald City had to offer. Each mornings had started with the world-famous coffee. They shopped in Pike Place Market , looked out from the Space Needle, gone boating on Puget Sound, ridden the streetcars, gone biking in the Cascades, toured Seattle's historical underground city and played in the Seattle Center fountain. They'd laughed and talked and hugged. After the turmoil of the proceeding months, Buffy had clung to the comfort and support of her father, relishing the love and acceptance.

The third night there they'd dressed up and gone out to eat at the elegant and expensive Il Terrazzo Carmine. Buffy had glowed, basking the atmosphere and the admiring looks from the cute waiter. She'd found the Italian food to be divine. Her father had preferred the wine.

That night had been a bad one. Perhaps the worst in Buffy's life.

And finally mustering the courage to tell someone about it did not go over well when Buffy was also burning down buildings, getting involved in 'gang' fights and claiming to be the Vampire Slayer.

So Buffy curled up in the bottom of the tub under the steaming spray and cried. And wished that her father and the rest of the world would all go to Hell.


	8. Chocolate bribes

_So I went back and read the last chapter. Aside from the obvious cobwebs and dust which had gathered on the old writing skills, it was very apparent that this story needs a little more laughter and wagging puppy dog tails. I'll try to do a better job balancing everything out in the future._

_Also, expect a lot more frequent updates. Chapters are going to be shorter and only written once (less editing and re-editing!). We'll see what type of differences three years can make…_

_I've gotten a couple of questions about x-over material and pairings. We're going to keep Terry Brooks' Nest Freemark and Wraith around for a while but it is actually her relatives that will be more prominent. We'll see a couple of OCs from the Highlander universe as well as a couple of family members of Harry Potter characters. Buffy is obviously important but at this point I am only planning on bringing one other character from the Buffy/Angel 'verse into the game. Any guesses?_

_As to pairings, we'll keep it fun for a while. A little bit of lust, a couple of crushes, mix things up a bit and bake at 350 degrees until Buffy is red in the face and demanding a good snogging._

_You are the audience. Let me know what you want (I don't do slash or rate "MA"). Suggestions? Constructive feedback? Know any good jokes?_

………………………………………_._

Buffy finally emerged from the bathroom when the water had grown cold enough that she had begun to shiver. Slinking into the guest bedroom, she gazed wistfully at the inviting tangle of blankets on the bed before reluctantly dressing in a second set of borrowed clothing.

Coming downstairs she found Angie washing dishes. Dinner still sat on the table with one unused place setting but everyone else has eaten and left during her extended shower.

"Hey." Buffy greeted the older woman with a smile.

Angie smiled back but her eyes were probing. "Feel better?"

"Much." Buffy admitted. She moved to seat herself at the table, breathing in deeply the odors wafting up from the aluminum foil-covered pans. Peeling away the metallic sheets revealed breaded chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables and the largest pan of corn bread she had ever seen. "Wow! You ever think about opening a restaurant?"

Angie chuckled, pleased at the compliment, as she watched the slender teen fill her plate with generous helpings from each dish. "My family owned a restaurant when I was growing up, 'Kate's Kitchen,' named after my mother. We ran it for years. We were pretty successful too. Most weekends we had more customers than seats. Dad kept it open until the last of the siblings left for college. Then he finally accepted a competitor's offer and sold it." She shook her head. "They ran it into the ground within a year. Thought that they could increase their profits by cutting corners."

"You still miss it." Buffy observed between bites.

"Sometimes." Angie smiled. "But I am happy here as well. And having a family with this many boys I've probably spent more time cooking here than I did in the restaurant."

Buffy indicated the enlarged photograph in the middle of the dining room wall. "So what are all of your kids doing now?"

Buffy listened as the proud mother talked about each of her children in turn. Seven sons and one daughter. She'd already met Phil, the police officer, who lived just a few miles away. Matt was the youngest of the children. The other sons had all been successful, married, had children and were doing well in their chosen careers as engineers, a dentist, a lawyer, and a store manager. The ideal All-American family.

"And Dakota?" Buffy asked, indicating the only girl in the photo surrounded by a crowd of older brothers.

Sadness and pain flashed across Angie's face. She hesitated for a moment before answering. "Kotie is going to school in Boston."

"Boston is a nice place." Buffy offered tentatively, disconcerted by the raw hurt in Angie's eyes.

Angie's lips twitched upward and she squeezed Buffy's hand. "Yes, it is. I guess I am just a fussy old hen who doesn't like the idea of her little girl being on the other side of the country. I don't know what I will do next year when Matt graduates and goes off to college. I have always thought that I would enjoy having a little more free time to myself but now I am not so sure."

Buffy smiled. "I know what you mean. I am an only child. I am already catching my mom sneaking into my room to hug my stuffed animals and sniffling whenever she flips through the photo albums. Plus," she leaned in to share in confidence, "She's rediscovered my weakness for chocolate chip cookies. Now they're blackmail material to get me to sit down and share all of the gory details of my life."

Angie laughed. "I decided long ago that God gave teenagers such big appetites so that their mothers could find a way to talk with them." She rose from the table and moved around the counter, returning shortly with a small plate of cookies and a tall glass of milk.

"You are trying to bride me?" Buffy laughed.

"To thank you." Angie smiled, her eyes wet. "I don't think you will be able to understand how grateful I feel until you have children of your own."

Buffy shrugged. "It was really no big. But I am not going to say no to chocolate-chip goodness." She assured her host with a broad smile.


	9. Story update

Update: After several years away from "Once Upon a Time" I've found that the story is not going in the same direction that I had originally intended, my writing style has changed and I am in a different place emotionally myself.

I still have several unfinished/unedited chapters from "Once Upon a Time" but currently I have decided to leave this story and go in a new direction. My new story, "Lost and Found," is a revamped version of "Once Upon a Time." The first few chapters of both stories are very similar, with mostly just small editing changes, but you will see larger differences as I move further along with "Lost and Found."

As always, I am a review junkie. Let me know what you want and I'll see what I can do.

.net/s/5894318/1/Confrontations_Lost_and_Found


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